


Let Me Look at the Sun

by korynn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korynn/pseuds/korynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for <a href="http://stileswolfsout.tumblr.com/">stileswolfsout</a>'s <b>PROMPT</b>: Stiles taking care of Derek while he’s sick and being a grumpy sour wolf? And Stiles won’t listen to him when he says he doesn't need the help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Look at the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda went a bit fluffier and not so grumpy Derek for this, but I hope you like!  
> For once, I'm not writing PWP. It's a miracle.
> 
> As always, mistakes are all mine, please feel free to point them out so I can fix them. (:

Derek has no idea how he suddenly went from fine to "oh god kill me now please tell me the satellite is working today I'm so _sick_ ", but he's bundled up in blankets on his threadbare couch, probably looking worse than he feels, and flipping through channels, hoping and praying none of the pack shows up until his body gets rid of the sick.

He was kinda bowled over with it, and puking up deer made him regret giving in to his wolf and hunting last night; he's actually pretty positive Lydia has already stopped by and could smell his decay. Which might explain why Scott isn't on his porch with his mistake of the week and why he can -- is that Stile's Jeep parked out front?

Not even bothering to get up and answer the door, a rattled "Go away" ignored in favor of the boy slipping in and cringing at what he found.

"Derek, seriously? Have you even _taken_ anything?" Leaning over the back of the couch, palm on Derek's forehead, the moan that comes out of him at the most amazing feeling of a cold hand can't be helped. "I'm taking that as a 'No, Stiles, I'm the big bad wolf and no bug will take me down! I'm a magical creature of the forest' and 'Stiles, force me to take better care of myself!!'."

"No. It's a 'Good God why didn't I lock the door'."

"You did, but I have a key, remember? Our one year anniversary, yeah? Now, what exactly kind of sick are you? I'm assuming stomach something, by the way Lydia complained."

Tilting his head back to stare up at Stiles, Derek frowns, reaching up to snatch his other hand and use it as a compress even as he glares, brows furrowing after a moment. "Wait. You came here because of Lydia?"

"No, I came here because I know that my grumpy werewolf is going to hole up in his cave of gloom and growl his sick away. Which doesn't work, by the way." Stiles pulls his hands back and tempts fate by bending to drop a kiss on Derek's forehead, chuckling at the grumble he got in return. "Now, sick. What kind, so Dr. Stilinski can heal you."

"Started puking, started getting cold, sweaty, then really hot. Feel gross. Can't hold anything down."

"Did you try soup, crackers, sprite, pepto?"

Derek frowns even more, shifting his blankets back up, remembering something about burning out a fever and hoping he was right. "....No. Cereal."

"Oh my god you act like you're single, I swear. Stay. I will fix you. I brought ammo." Bounding away, Derek waits until the door shuts behind Stiles before closing his eyes and listing to one side, head thunking against his (gross from sweat and general sick) pillow. Sometimes he forgets that his mate isn't a wolf, that this is just Stiles, immune to his gloom and sometimes a bit too good. Derek doesn't know how they managed to last, doesn't know what he did in a past life to redeem himself now for something so Good.

Yeah, his brain might be a little mushy from the fever, but he wasn't going to point it out. Or say anything. Stile's ego is bad enough already sometimes, what little praise he gave the boy seemed to go straight to it tenfold.

Too lost in his thoughts to have noticed Stiles return, or his heating up of things, he nearly jumps out of his skin when a straw pokes him in the chin, a hand in his hair enough to keep him from pouncing. "Forgot my Alpha spooks at everything. Here, drink. It might settle your stomach a little. We'll try food if you want to sit up. Then I'll get you in the shower. And bed. Sleep is better than reruns of Law and Order, anyways."

"How did you know that's what I was looking for?"

"Really, of all the things....how long have we been together? _Forever_? I should know your favorite shows by now. Drink." And Derek has to laugh at Stiles determined face, the mother henning he's only experienced a few times since their first kiss making him remember just exactly why they've lasted. "You really love me, don't you?"

"Yes, you big rug. Get up. Drink. I might let us cuddle once you've showered. Come on. I know you can't resist those. Best medicine ever."

\---

The cuddles do work, and the sloppy mess of a shower that turned to Derek dragging Stiles in with him and forcing him to wash his hair while he basically slept on his mate did do wonders. His throat didn't feel so tight, and he did keep the soup down.

Sometimes, belly rubs can be forgiven, especially when he keeps getting kissed. No, not on the mouth, Derek would never live it down if he got Stiles sick. Nuzzling under Stile's jaw and using his weight to pin him still, he huffs at the half-assed shove off and somehow falls asleep before Stiles can bitch about being used as a pillow.

He's not weak, the pack knows better. The pack also knows if they comment on how Stiles seems to be the mom of the pack, when they get sick the Stilinski healing soup will not be going anywhere near them. They'd suffer without him.

The pack loves Stiles, and Stiles loves them.

He might just love Derek the best, though.


End file.
